Definitely, Maybe in Love(32)

Henry walked toward us, his arms full of large rocks. After shooting me  another intense look, he knelt down and began arranging the rocks in a  circle for our fire.

"Thanks for the warning," I whispered to Mel, watching him. "Something's  pissed him off. I think he wants to murder me in my sleeping bag."

"That's not what he wants to do to you in your sleeping bag," Mel murmured.

I glared at her. "Pardon?"

"Nothing." She snickered.

Our troop tooled around the thick woods all day, romping halfway up the  trail toward Beacon Rock, then turning back a different way when the sun  arched to the west. At around five, we were forced to end our hike  early after I slipped on a mossy rock by the river, tweaking my ankle.

"Think of your happy place," Henry prescribed, his left arm around me, acting as my crutch. "We're almost back to camp."

I winced, regarding the trail ahead of us. Mel and Tyler had disappeared  into the bushes, leaving us alone. "Really," I insisted, trying to  squirm free, "it doesn't hurt that much." I attempted to limp away from  him. "See, I can walk on my own." It was a pitiful attempt.

"You're favoring your right side," he observed, wrapping his arm around  me again. His hold was iron-tight this time. Even though he had a five  o'clock shadow going, he still smelled like that ceramic bowl of shaving  cream in his bathroom back in Palo Alto. Something about that smell was  making me feel dizzy, or maybe my foot hurt more than I thought.

"Hold onto me till we get to the car and I can check it out," he said.  "I feel responsible. It was my long pass of the Frisbee that sent you  flying." He tightened his grip, hoisting me closer so that even my  healthy foot was barely touching the ground as we walked.

Maybe thinking he was taking my mind off the pain in my ankle, Henry  described a little Tahitian town he'd visited a few times. White sand,  clear blue water, friendly and accommodating neighbors. It sounded like a  little piece of heaven.

"Perfect place to finish your thesis," he added. "Under a banyan tree, laptop shaded by an umbrella. Endless Diet Cokes."

"Don't tempt me," I said, trying not to wince.

The sun was low and the fire looked warm and inviting by the time Henry  and I returned to camp. But my escort made us stop at the Durango first.

"Get in." He opened the rear door at the back of the car. "Or do you need me to lift you?"

I snorted a laugh, but he made a move toward me, so I quickly hopped  onto the edge of the tailgate before he got any macho ideas.                       
       
           



       

Kneeling down, he took ahold of my ankle between his two hands, then  lifted my leg, resting it on the tailgate. Gently, he pushed up the  bottom of my jeans to my knee. I gasped quietly the moment chilly air  hit bare skin, but then instantly calmed as his warm hands encircled my  calf muscle, gently pressing in as they ran down my skin, a tender  massage. When his examination paused and his lingering hands felt way  more exploratory than medical, my breathing suddenly picked up speed. I  stared at the top of his bent head, my fingers curling around the edge  of the door. One of his hands slid to the sensitive backside of my knee  while the other wrapped around my ankle, gingerly manipulating my foot  this way and that way.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked. I could feel him breathing on my skin as I held my own breath.

Before answering, I swallowed then shook my head.

"No sprain," he said, his eyes lifting to mine. "A mild bruising." His  skin was so warm that it surprised me when I felt a chill shoot through  my body. His hand behind my knee slid down to my ankle so both hands  were around it. For a second, I had a flash of him holding the sides of  my neck … right before we-

"Ready?" he asked, leaning an inch closer.

I nodded automatically.

"Good." He stepped back and drew my jeans down to cover my leg. "Come on." He turned toward the fire. "Let's eat."

 …

The woods around us were dark, and two owls on either side of the fire  hooted back and forth. I grabbed my copy of Walden and peeled myself off  the stump I'd occupied for the past few hours. A combination of that  morning's early wakeup call, the long drive, the sun, the hike, and the  potential of bodily injury had officially worn me out.

"I'm going to bed," I announced, heading toward the tent. "You staying  up, Mel?" When I turned around, both Mel and Tyler were looking at  Henry, who was sitting on the ground on a blanket, staring vacantly into  the fire.

"It's ten thirty," Mel replied. "I'm not tired."

I covered my yawning mouth with one hand. "I'll see you in the morning."  The early spring wind had picked up once the sun set, and it was  chilly. I hurried into the tent.

No formal sleeping spots had been designated, so I unrolled my sleeping  bag and situated it in the far right corner, farthest from the flap. I  was hoping I would be fast asleep by the time the others came in. Mel  promised no hanky panky. Still, I did not want to know what was going on  once the butane lantern was turned off.

Feeling strangely modest, I crawled into my sleeping bag to change out  of my jeans and sweatshirt and into my soft and snuggly flannel pajama  pants and long-sleeve T-shirt. I fluffed and punched my pillow before  lying back, prepared for exhaustion to overtake.

I pinched my eyes closed, then opened them. I rolled onto my side. It  was probably an hour of tossing and turning later when I threw back the  tent flap and wandered toward the campfire, huddled in my pajamas and  coat.

Henry sat before the yellow fire, toasting a very well done marshmallow off the end of a wire hanger. He was alone.





Chapter 22

"Comment maintenant vache brune?" Henry asked. His voice was quiet, he eyes red and sleepy.

"Did you just say, ‘How now brown cow?'" I asked as I ambled toward the fire.

He smiled, keeping his eyes down.

I stood across from him, warming the front of my body. "Where are the others?"

"Night hike." He pointed the end of the hanger toward the dark woods. "I wouldn't expect them for a while."

I rotated, warming my back now, remembering Mel's warning about not  trying to find them if they split away from the group. Mel and I were  best friends, but there were some sides of her I didn't need to see.

"Probably not," I agreed.

"Can't sleep?"

I turned my head in time to see the crispy marshmallow slide off the  hanger and disappear into the licking flames. "I guess I'm restless," I  said as I walked past him to the stump I'd been sitting on earlier.  "Ever had one of those nights when your mind is racing but you can't  figure out what you're trying to think?"

"More often than I'd like," he replied. "Especially lately."

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. "Probably too much caffeine."

After staring into the fire for a moment longer, Henry tossed the hanger  to the side and shifted his weight toward me. "Spring-" He cut short,  his head snapping to the side.

A shiver ran up my spine when I realized he'd heard a sound coming from  the woods. My eyes shot in the direction of where he was looking, but I  saw nothing and heard nothing … until Mel and Tyler stumbled out of the  darkness. I glanced at Henry, who had already relaxed his stance.                       
       
           



       

Mel was hanging onto Tyler's hand and swinging it between them. "Still  holding out?" she said to Henry, then she noticed me sitting on the  other side of the fire. "Oh, hey Springer. Thought you were asleep."

"She tried," Henry said. "Now that you two are back"-he rolled to his  knees and stood up-"Spring and I are going for a drive." He walked over  and stopped in front of me. "Ready?" He extended his hand to help me up.

When I didn't react, his eyes went tight and his jaw clenched. The  expression screamed impatience, like I wasn't going along with some  secret plan we'd earlier devised. After a moment, he sighed and grabbed  the end of my coat sleeve, pulling me to my feet.

"Toss me your keys, man," he said to Tyler. The silver ring flew through the air.

Without a second thought, I followed. "It would appear," I announced to  Mel over my shoulder, "that we will be going for a drive." I didn't look  back to take note of her expression.

The engine hummed softly as we wound along the dark road away from the  campground. I didn't take the time to dissect what Henry's motivation  might have been. A drive sounded nice and the car was warmer than the  tent, with less bugs.